


To the Last

by flibbertygigget



Series: The Other 51 [21]
Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Healing, Kansas, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them realize that Batman will heal from more than just the torture when he is sent to Kansas.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6752434">Of Blood and Bone</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Last

When Batman opens his eyes, it is bright.

For a moment he thinks that he's died. He's died, and this is heaven. But then his eyes focus and, no, it's just a bright white ceiling and fluorescent lights and- Oh, God.

"Wally," Batman tries to say, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper. He begins to struggle, but, no, he can't move, his arms and legs weighed down by casts. The monitor next to him begins to beep wildly, and men in white coats rush in.

He tries to fight them off, he really does, but they stick him with a needle and he's gone back into darkness.

* * *

The next time Batman awakens, Wally is there, snoring in a plastic chair. He doesn't seem to be hurt; he isn't even bound to the chair. Batman shifts, ignoring the stabs of pain that seem to come from everywhere, trying to take a closer look. Suddenly, Wally stirs and opens his eyes.

"Hey, you're awake," he says. His mask is off, and his smile is blinding. Batman stares, trying to figure out whether Wally is a robot or a hologram or an illusion or something else entirely. The smile slowly begins to fall. "It's okay. You're safe here."

"No." He hates how his voice cracks. He can't afford weakness, not now.

"Bats, we're in the Watchtower." Wally talks to him slowly, like he's a child incapable of understanding how wrong the whole situation is.

"No, no, we're not. I didn't give you the passcodes."

"I don't need- Bats, do you recognize me?" There is panic in Wally's voice, and now Batman knows that it's the real Wally, and the thought terrifies him.

"Wally- But how could we have... What did they do to you?"

"Batman, you're not making sense." Wally is standing, trying to come closer.

"Is this mind control or something worse? How could they have-"

"We're really back, Bats." Wally's hand is on his shoulder, and he is too solid. "Look around. You designed the medbays, it's all your work. We're in the Watchtower. You're safe now."

There's nothing to indicate that Wally is lying. Everything is, at least to his eyes, exactly as it should be. It doesn't make sense, but somehow they must have escaped.

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

* * *

For days the facade doesn't slip, and against his will Batman begins to relax. Doctors are in and out of the room, Clark and Diana stop in briefly, and it seems... it seems so real. Wally is always at his side, at least, and if he can see him he can protect him.

One day, Batman awakes to Clark and Wally arguing. The moment they notice him, they stop, but it's plain to see that they were discussing him. At any other time, Batman would have been angry to be treated as though he needed any kind of protecting, but now... now he is simply blank. He has nothing else, nothing more to give.

"Bruce..." Clark is hesitating, clearly fearing his reaction. "Bruce, the League feels that it would be prudent to move you elsewhere."

"I'm a liability." It isn't a question.

"No! No, of course not!" But Clark's nervous hands give him away.

"I don't blame you. I would be hesitant to waste money and resources on someone who will likely never recover as well."

"It's not about that. What if the Watchtower is attacked, and you are unable to defend yourself? We want to move you to a secure location."

"No way," Wally says. "Look, I don't know about you, but I know that Bats has already figured out like a dozen ways to kill me right now. He's far from helpless. Besides, he's League. You can't just kick him down to Earth because he got hurt."

"We're not kicking him out," Clark says. "We are sending him to a secure location to recover."

"Oh yeah? And when he does, what then? What about medical care? He needs-"

"Flash, please," Batman says. Wally whips his head around to look at him.

"You can't be taking Supes seriously. I mean..." Wally's words die away. "You're serious."

"Superman is right. I can't perform my duties as a member of the League; I shouldn't be privy to their resources."

"You mean  _your_ resources. You paid for the Tower. You basically funded the League. You shouldn't just be-"

"Where's this secure location?" Batman says. Clark hesitates.

"It's in Kansas. Smallville, Kansas. The Kent family farm."

"You can't be serious."

"I've already explained the situation to them. All I need is your agreement." Wally looks like he would like to shove a shard of Kryptonite up Clark's ass.

"I'll agree, on one condition," Batman says. "Flash comes with me."

"We need him here."

"No, you don't," Wally snaps. "Don't worry, Bats, I'm coming with you." At any other time, Clark's sour expression would have made Batman smirk. Now he just nodded at Wally gratefully.

* * *

Batman hates Kansas.

Ma Kent (as she insists on being called) is nice enough, if a bit prone to fussing over him. She leaves windows open, insisting that the fresh air will help him get better, only closing them when the evening chill begins to creep across the cornfields. At any other time, she would have been no more than a minor annoyance, but now she is unbearable. Batman does not need nor want her sympathy. All he wants is to be in Gotham again.

That's the other great problem. Batman, born and raised in Gotham, is used to the tall buildings and narrow streets of the city. It always had comforted him to know that there was always an alleyway to duck into, always a roof to use as an escape route. Kansas is flat and open, nothing but fields and barns and endless sky. When the wind comes, it doesn't wind around corners, rushing and growing and fading away. It blows unimpeded across the flat world, making the field ripple and wave, and the world seems less solid around him. At least the open space seems to be enjoyed by Wally.

"Breakfast's ready!" Ma calls. Batman hobbles from his room to the kitchen. "I hope you brought an appetite." She knows that Batman will only pick at the food, too queasy from the drugs that Clark brings every two weeks like clockwork.

"Thank you, Mrs- Ma," he says softly. "Where's Wally?"

"He already ate. He said he was going to go help Pa feed the animals." Batman nods, turning his attention back to the eggs on his plate. He tries to take a bit, knowing that it will probably just come back up later. "Batman, if you don't mind me asking..."

"I do." It's a half-hearted protest and she knows it. He's too tired to really care what she asks him.

"Why are you here? Surely there are better places for you to recover, the Watchtower for one. I've tried asking Clark, but he won't give me a straight answer." Batman sets down his fork, trying to get up and leave, but Ma's hand rest on his and he can't go.

"I am a... liability." It's worse to admit it, to say it as a fact rather than an accusation. It feels as though he is giving something up. Ma's hand clasps around his wrist. "It's an understandable concern. I was already the weakest member of the team. The fact that it is... unlikely that I will be able to recover enough to resume being the Batman. For all intents and purposes, I am no longer a member of the Justice League."

"You were injured protecting them."

"That changes nothing." Ma looks furious. "They aren't obligated to- to-" Batman breaks off when Ma pulls him into a hug, too surprised to continue.

His first instinct is to freeze up, to pull away, but he can't do it somehow. Though Alfred had always done his best to be the parents that he had lost too early, but there was always an unspoken wall between them. Alfred was his butler, and Batman was his master. Alfred had never hugged him. And then Bruce became Bruce and Batman became Batman, and neither of them could be allowed to love anyone. One was a facade, and one couldn't risk the consequences. It has been so long since he'd been allowed to just exist, to throw away every mask and  _feel_ , and it is intoxicating.

"They have no right to kick you out," Ma says. Her touch is gentle but firm. "If they try, you can trust that Clark will get a talking to from his Ma." Batman pulls away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"That will not be necessary," he says. "They are making the same decision I would have if it had been any of them."

"Don't be ridiculous. How many times have they been seriously injured when in the League?"

"That's different. They could recover quickly, I won't recover at all."

"Not with that attitude, you won't." Ma pulls him in again, and this time he can't pull away, can't bear to even try. "You just concentrate on getting better and leave the rest to Ma."

* * *

Batman's eyes flash open and he shoots up in bed, ignoring the pain at the movement. He looks around, every muscle tense and ready for a fight, but there's only Wally, standing in the rectangle of light thrown by the open door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Wally says. He's vibrating, nervous that he's ruined something irreparably. Batman doesn't want to shatter his assumption that anything can be fixed with care and time. 

"I'm fine," Batman says, ignoring the pain and the sticky blood from torn stitches.

"Are you sure?" Wally is stalling.

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep." Wally looks at the ground, fingers tapping on his thigh in a blur.

"Ican'tsleep," Wally mumbles.

"Sorry?"

"I can't sleep, okay? Now that you don't have that tube in your lungs anymore I can't hear you from where I am. So I tried to look in, just so I could make sure you were still here, but you-"

"I understand." The bed is large. Not as large as the one in Bruce's room, but that's just for show. Batman is used to sleeping in the cot in the Batcave or in one of the chairs in the Watchtower when his body finally gives out. It seems like the only solution is to shift over to the left side and invite Wally to stay, at least for now. After all, he can't allow Wally to be exhausted tomorrow.

And if Batman's pulse slows as well, well, nobody needs to know.

* * *

This isn't the way that Batman had ever pictured his life going.

He had always expected to go out in a blaze of glory, crashing the Batmobile in pursuit of a criminal or blown up, still trying to disarm the bomb in those last desperate seconds. He had expected to go out with a bang, for the whole world to know that Batman was dead, not with this... whimper. He had never wanted to fade away.

Still, he has made his peace with the idea. It is almost relaxing to lose himself in Kansas. In Gotham, a new challenge hid around every corner. Here... here you can see for miles. It is easy to forget that, beyond the endless fields, there is a world that needs to be saved. But, no, that isn't his job anymore. The world is saved, and he is... Retired isn't the right word. That makes it sound like he had a choice.

It's that... peace, for lack of a better term, that makes it so difficult for him to face Clark when he brings the meds and, instead of dropping them off and leaving, he stays, waiting at the table until Batman finally comes into the kitchen.

"What do you want?" Batman says, trying to sound blunt instead of angry. Wally stands in the corner, foot tapping so fast that Ma's floor is in danger.

"Bru- Batman, I know you're hurt..." 

"I don't want to hear it." God damn it, consistency is all he asks. No sooner has he begun to make peace with the fact that this will be the rest of his life than he's being pulled in again, pulled away from the happiest he's been in  _years_ -

"Bruce, we need you," Clark says.

"Bullshit. I'm just a human. You didn't need me when you dumped me here against my will, you didn't need me when I was in that- that  _place_ for  _weeks_ -"

"Please, you're being ridiculous. We looked for you. We're trying to help you recover. I think that you ought to be a little less selfish and-"

"If you need me so badly, ask Nightwing. I'm sure he'd be happy to join."

"Gosh, I don't know why I even try," Clark says. He looks to Wally for support, but Wally just glares. Clark heaves a long-suffering sigh and flies away.

"Well, that went well," Wally says.

"If he wanted me to come back, he should have never sent me away. He lost his chance."

"Are you sure that you'll never- I mean, you're right, he's being an ass, but..." Batman turns away, unable to look at the painfully hopeful look in Wally's eyes. The younger man doesn't realize that recovery, in this case, might not mean recovering his life as a superhero.

"I don't know," he says. "If I do, I want it to be on my own terms."

* * *

On clear nights, Batman hobbles out of the house and stares at the sky, sprinkled with so many stars that he is surprised it isn't bright as day. He's seen stars before, of course, in the Watchtower, but it's easy to lose that sense of wonder when you're consumed by the work. He had never even noticed the sky in the Watchtower, and there were no stars in Gotham. But in Kansas...

"Hey." Batman forces himself to relax. It's Wally, it's always just Wally.

"Hello." Wally stands next to him, looking to the sky.

"It's hard to believe that they're up there, huh?"

"It's hard to believe that I ever dedicated my life to fighting crime. It all seems so distant now." He pauses, searching for the words. "Wally, am I making the right decision?"

"I don't know," Wally says. "I think you are." When Batman doesn't answer, Wally puts an arm around his shoulders. "You've given you life to keep others safe. I think it's your turn to heal."

And, in the dark of the night, Bruce Wayne smiles.


End file.
